


Sweet Dreams are Made of These

by Elivagar (RivetingFabrications)



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, PWP, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivetingFabrications/pseuds/Elivagar
Summary: Alfonse has a sweet night of yearning that's rudely interrupted by the crown prince of Nifl.





	Sweet Dreams are Made of These

The winters here are strong and laborious, but Alfonse is safe from the freezing winds clawing at the walls of Nifl's ambassadorial chambers. He is the lone representative of Askr tonight, and Nifl had welcomed him with open arms. No expense had been spared to make him comfortable. On his arrival to the palace, he had been treated to a sumptuous dinner with lavish affair, dining long into the night as he greeted Nifl's aristocracy. However, as the festivities had quieted and some of the other guests had left, Alfonse had excused himself to his room to soak in the hot baths which Nifl boasted. Now refreshed and warm, Alfonse returns to stoking the fire, taking a poker to the flickering warmth.

He hums thoughtfully, coaxing the fires back to life as he turns over the coals and adds a few more logs to last him through the night. His chambers are well insulated, cozy and tucked away in a nook of the palace that's protected from the worst of Nifl's infamous nor'easters. After the flames lick hungrily at its supper, Alfonse pads silently across the room towards the bed lined with fur pelts and heavy feather downs, resting his head against the plush pillows and drawing the covers over himself.

It was always good to visit Nifl, he thinks idly. Upon his entry into the country, Fjorm and her family had welcomed him warmly. He had paid his respects to Gunnthrá's memorial already, and tomorrow's schedule was full with the rest of his required ambassadorial duties. He closes his eyes to sleep, but his mind is elsewhere, skin prickling with restlessness.

His mind turns to other thoughts. Kiran was back in Askr as well, probably planning the next strategy with Anna and Sharena for their next move in regards to Embla. The Order of Heroes had grown in strength a thousandfold since Kiran had joined, and Alfonse was grateful for that. With Nifl as their ally, it seemed as if no foe could touch them, though Alfonse knew that was only a sweet fantasy. After all, one misstep on any of their parts, and the Order could split apart down the seams.

_Peace, Alfonse._ Hríd's words float back to him. _You worry too much._ Alfonse grimaces now as he tosses and turns. Gods, there had been such little time to talk to Hríd. They had been together nearly all day, but with the niceties of diplomacy and the buzz of socialites around them, they had at best only exchanged mere pleasantries throughout the day and during dinner. Alfonse bites his lip as he thinks back to when they had last seen each other, a far cry from today's meeting. That day...

He had floated back to consciousness, high on a fever of lucid dreams and broken bones. Distant voices had echoed about him as he struggled to breathe, let alone move.Disjointedfragments of memory had floated back to him as he fought to piece them together. Hríd. Hríd on the battlefield, facing down a stream of pegasi knights. A lucky blow had buckled his right pauldron. Alfonse had ran to him, pulled him out of harm's way but only for himself to be struck by a lance piercing his breastplate. The last thing he could vividly recallwas a flurry of feathers and Hríd's horrified cry.

When he broke his fevered dreams at long last, Alfonse had been dizzy from blood loss and high on endorphins. Elise's magic suffused him in warm silvery light as it bound his body back together, sinew and blood mending together without a scar. Sharena had hugged him, clasping him tightly against her chest as if he'd shatter through her arms. And Hríd...

Hríd had been barely able to maintain his composure, gazing at him with an anxiety that had Alfonse squirming under his gaze.Hríd's presence had flickered in the back, fidgety and waiting, and Nifl's prince had lingered on when the others left Alfonse torecover. Alfonse had presumed it was to chastise him for placing himself in danger for Hríd's sake; after all, he had no doubts Hríd would have done the same, and Alfonse could sense a kindred spirit in him. Yet, Alfonse had been right, and wrong, all at the same time.

Hríd had crushed him to his chest, huge arms wrapping around him in an embrace belying his real strength. _Oh, you foolish prince,_ he had whispered tightly into Alfonse's ears. _You damned, utter fool. If you had died..._ and Hríd had kissed him desperately, lips moving fiercely against Alfonse's. And utter fool that he was, Alfonse had forgot himself in a fit of sweet madness. He had kissed back with fierce desperation and want coiling in his stomach, permitting himself the indulgence he had always abstained from.

Hríd was warm, Hríd was gorgeous, Hríd was everything Alfonse ever wanted but denied himself. Yet the stunning affirmation that Hríd wanted him _too_ had Alfonse's soul quaking with the temptation of Hríd's hands running down his body with a lover's touch.

Gods, he can't bear it. Alfonse's eyes drift shut as he worries his lip. His hand presses against his groin as the other tugs the belt of his robes open. He thinks about Hríd's fierce determination and loyalty, the way Alfonse feels like he's burning up when Hríd makes no effort to hide the way his eyes rake up and down his body. His breath catches as he starts rubbing his palm against himself, the pressure dull and sweet as his blood stirs with arousal. He thinks about how much he'd like to taste Hríd's lips again, to suck on the sensitive skin of Hríd's neck and have Hríd gasp underneath him.

Their bodies would rock together, seeking friction and that delicious pressure of their groins grinding against each other. Alfonse trembles at the idea of his fantasy being true, that Hríd would want this, would reciprocally desire him. Hríd would help him out of his clothes, his large, calloused hands sliding over his shoulders, and Alfonse would kiss him until they were both out of breath and disheveled. He'd help Hríd out of his own clothes too, of course. Hríd's elaborate robes would take some time, but the wait would be worth it and Alfonse could kiss down his perfect body and run his own hands over Hríd's magnificent musculature, worship Hríd's gorgeous form and pay tribute with his mouth.

He'd kiss down Hríd's body, see if Hríd liked if if he licked down the planes of his stomach. Alfonse's breath hitches, his cock hardening under his ministrations until he can bear it no longer. He pulls himself free from his smallclothes, groaning softly as he permits himself a slow, firm stroke. Hríd would groan his name, eyes trying hard not to flutter shut as Alfonse would dip his head and take Hríd's cock into his mouth. Alfonse wonders what it would taste like; until that fateful night, it would have been unthinkable for Alfonse to imagine it. Yet Hríd's breathless, wanting kiss from all those months ago had opened the floodgates, and Alfonse permits a soft cry to escape his lips as he imagines Hríd gasping, hips bucking into Alfonse's wanton and eager mouth.

He doesn't think he'd be able to take Hríd all the way in, but he'll do his best, and what he can't reach his hand will make up the difference. He thinks about Hríd watching him with wild, burning eyes, that aroused gaze raking down Alfonse's form, and a heavy hand forcing Alfonse's head down until Alfonse is choking on his cock. The indecency of it! Alfonse's cheeks redden from the thought, but his cock betrays his lust.

He strokes himself faster now. Turning his face into the pillow, Alfonse muffles his moans as he fantasizes about Hríd using him for his pleasure, groaning as he spills into Alfonse's mouth. Hríd would hold Alfonse's head down, his seed spilling hot and bitter over Alfonse's tongue, and he'd tell Alfonse to swallow it all, wouldn't permit him to pull away until he had spent himself entirely. Alfonse would happily oblige, kissing his cock clean as he'd rut shamelessly against Hríd's thighs, seeking his own release. Hríd would push his sweaty hair away from his eyes with a sweep of his hand, gazing down at Alfonse with those gorgeous eyes. Without missing a beat, Hríd would pull Alfonse up to kiss him sweetly as they lost themselves in each other. Alfonse is unable to bite back a loud moan at the enticing image.

" _Hríd_ ,"Alfonse breathes into the night air, tongue darting out to wet his lips. The fur pelts are uncomfortably warm and stifling now, and he kicks them away, baring himself to the room. His cock is hard and standing at attention, and Alfonse is _so_ close to release. His strokes quicken as he approaches the cusp of completion, gasping Hríd's name over and over again. "Oh, _Hríd,_ please, I can’t..." His eyes flutter open, lids heavy with lust. A flicker of movement from across the room catches his eye, distracting him from his pleasure. Stopping instantly, Alfonse freezes with horror.

Hríd stands stock still at the doorway, feet away from Alfonse's wantonly splayed figure. His mouth is parted in a perfect O, hand glued to the door knob as his eyes dart away.

Neither of them speak. Alfonse throws the blankets over himself in a belated attempt to cover his nudity.

"Forgive me, Prince Alfonse." Hríd's hoarse voice shatters the silence. "I -I knocked. But when I was about to leave, I heard my name..." he trails off.

Alfonse reddens in shame, the blush spreading down his neck and chest. "No. I...it is I that should be asking your forgiveness." He averts his eyes, unable to look at him. "For you to see me like this...forgive me, Hríd."

_Gods_! Alfonse berated himself. In his foolish, distracted thoughts, he had forgotten to lock the door. Never mind Hríd, it could have been far, far worse. Sutr's lackeys, though defeated, were still out there, and his lapse in judgment could have cost him far more than his embarrassment if someone had harbored ill will towards him.

Pulling himself together was no easy task, but Alfonse pushes himself into an upright position to regard Hríd properly. The swath of blankets offer some semblance of modesty as he reties his robes.

"What brings you here so late at night, Prince Hríd?" manages Alfonse, and he is proud that his voice doesn't betray him.

Hríd swallows, Adam's apple jerking unsteadily. "I wished to speak to you in private, Prince Alfonse. Though in truth, the matter seems...superfluous, now."

"It's all right," Alfonse reassures him. Another wave of shame rolls down his spine, but Alfonse forces it under, trying slot the pieces of their former camaraderie back together. Now properly clothed, he slips out of the covers to properly greet his visitor. For Hríd to have come at such a time, it was surely important. "Is it an emergency?"

"No." Hríd sucks in a long breath and releases it. Alfonse sees a shift in his features, as if he has gained a newfound determination. "In truth, Prince Alfonse, I wished to speak about us."

Alfonse's stomach sinks, but Hríd continues before he can respond. "I wanted to apologize to you, as a matter of fact. For taking advantage of you."

_What_? Alfonse's confusion must be evident, because Hríd speeds up. "When you were gravely injured, I worried for you. For you to have been wounded because of my own recklessness, that alone was already unforgivable. But worse than that, I forced my feelings upon you afterwards, without regard for what you think of me." Hríd closes the distance between them, taking Alfonse's hand and kissing it. "I sincerely wish to apologize for my actions."

"Prince Hríd." Alfonse smiles shakily. "You have nothing to be sorry for." A gentle rush of affection courses through Alfonse's veins. He can see Hríd's worry outlined in the furrow of his brow, and wonders if the thought had been gnawing at the back of Hríd's mind for months. Hríd had looked perfectly composed today, but now, Alfonse understands. "After all," Alfonse adds, speaking through his embarrassment. "I encouraged you."

He's pleased when his words elicit a bright blush dusting Hríd's cheeks. "You are truly a lovely sight to behold, Prince Alfonse," Hríd murmurs. His hand cups Alfonse's cheek, and Alfonse is helpless but to lean into it. "Then, despite my untimely entrance, you are...not mad?"

"Embarrassed, yes," Alfonse admits honestly. "But I could never be angry with you."

"Then I am grateful for your kindness." Hríd dips his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He speaks softly into Alfonse's ear, warm breath brushing it. "If I may be so forward, Prince Alfonse, and if I am reading this correctly...you reciprocate my feelings?"

Alfonse swallows thickly. Hríd deserves the truth, if nothing else.

"I do," he whispers, leaning against Hríd's chest. Hríd's arms fold around him, drawing him close. "But we can't."

Hríd makes a thoughtful sound, as if he had already suspected Alfonse's inhibitions. "Why not?"

"You will be crowned king soon, Prince Hríd," whispers Alfonse. "Your coronation will be held eventually, and you will have to take a queen." He heaves a quiet sight, closing his eyes to bask in Hríd's embrace. "There is no future for us."

"You are not wrong," acknowledges Hríd. "I will take a queen eventually, just as you will when you ascend the throne. But that does not mean we cannot enjoy each other's company, if only for a short time." He thumbs the corner of Alfonse's lip tenderly. "Few have the power of clairvoyance, but even then, the future isn't set in stone."

"No," Alfonse acquiesces. "But our relationship-"

"People change, and with they, the bonds they forge with one another. But the future will be here tomorrow, and then the next. Even if it is for just one night, Prince Alfonse, I desire _you_." Hríd smiles at him gently. "And if what I heard earlier was any indication, I think you feel the same. I see no reason why we should not act on those feelings. We don't know what tomorrow will bring, and to live in fear of the future is to die with regrets. Are relationships futile simply because we all shall die someday, and all things come to an end? Of course not. I simply want you, my prince, if you would have me as well."

Alfonse licks his dry lips. He can feel Hríd's heartbeat thudding faster against his ear when he rests his head against his chest.

"How long have you wanted me?" he whispers, barely able to speak. Hríd shakes his head minutely.

"Does it matter, my prince? I have always admired you. Zacharias spoke well enough of you, and to see you with mine own eyes, I was more than content. But who could not fall for you? Along the way my admiration turned to adoration, and here we are. But, enough about what I want. Prince Alfonse, you need only say the word, and I will leave." Hríd presses a final kiss against Alfonse's palms, stepping back to regard him seriously. "I only ask that you stay true to what your heart desires."

What Alfonse wants. Alfonse wants to dream of a day he can be with Hríd forever, fingers intertwined. They'd be consorts. Their families would give their blessings. Fjorm, Sharena, Ylgr, everyone. They'd grow old together, smile together, fight together, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

That sort of future isn't in their cards. Hríd will take another consort and wed her, have children, and continue Nifl's crown. But it's okay. Alfonse would never ask him to give Nifl up, and Hríd would never ask him to give Askr up.

"Please, Prince Hríd," murmurs Alfonse. At last, he reciprocates Hríd's embrace, arms wrapping around Hríd's broader build. "Make me yours."

Hríd wastes no time. He picks Alfonse up like he weights nothing, carrying him to the bed and dropping him into the nest of furs. Then he climbs over Alfonse, arms pressing down on either side of his head, leaning down and kissing him the way Alfonse has dreamed about for months. Alfonse pulls him in desperately, clutching his shoulders and pulling Hríd flush against him.

"What were you thinking about earlier, my prince?" gasps Hríd, pulling away for air and gazing down at Alfonse breathlessly. "To get you so worked up like this while calling my name..." Hríd's thigh presses between Alfonse's legs, against his burgeoning cock. "Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

Alfonse blushes, but Hríd is already kissing him again, his large fingers loosening Alfonse's robes once more. Alfonse fumbles with Hríd's garments, groaning into the kiss when Hríd's hand wraps around his cock.

"I-I need," he gasps, eyes rolling back as he rides Hríd's fist desperately. "I wanted your touch." A pleased rumble emanates from Hríd's chest, and he jacks Alfonse off harder.

"Like this?" A twist of Hríd's wrist sends Alfonse's head spinning with pleasure. His mouth moves over Alfon'se neck, sucking gently at the flesh. Alfonse tils his head back, exposing his throat as he keens for Hríd. "Tell me what you need, Alfonse."

"I thought about pleasuring you," breathes Alfonse. His hands shakily dip underneath Hríd's clothes, fingertips brushing over heated skin. "I wanted to make you feel good, Hríd."

Hríd kisses him throughly, his hand pausing to cup Alfonse's sac to massage them gently. "What else?" he breathes. "What else do you think about?"

Alfonse swallows thickly, closing his eyes to focus on the sensation. He's already veering towards the edge of completion once more, but he doesn't want to tell Hríd to stop. He wants to savor it, prolong their short lived night together, but he's been holding off for too long to stop. "I think about you...behind me," he gasps. His hips stutter as Hríd goes back to stroking Alfonse’s cock. "I-Hríd, I'm _close_ -" His voice breaks into a gasping moan as he spills into Hríd's hand. Hríd milks him through the pleasure as Alfonse's limbs quiver with the force of his orgasm.

"Oh, Alfonse," breathes Hríd in awe. "You _are_ a mess." He releases Alfonse's softening cock, examining the pearly mess soiling his hand.

"And whose fault is that?" murmurs Alfonse. Emboldened, Alfonse looks up at Hríd through lowered eyelashes. He takes Hríd's wrist and brings it to his mouth. Inhaling sharply, Hríd groans as Alfonse's tongue darts out, cleaning Hríd's hand with soft licks. Hríd's finger probes cautiously at the seam of his lips; Alfonse sucks on the digit. Hríd slowly fucks his mouth with his finger, pushing it slowly in an out as Alfonse's tongue laves over it. Hríd's gorgeous, wanting gaze sets Alfonse's veins ablaze despite the the heaviness of his limbs post-orgasm, and when he's finished cleaning Hríd's hand he draws him into a tight embrace.

"Would you permit me to make you feel as good as I did?" he breathes into Hríd's ear. His hand palms Hríd's groin, finding him hard and thick through his clothes. Any trace of shame that might have lingered is long gone now. They had bared themselves to each other, and found the other willing and wanting. Hríd's logic had resonated with Alfonse. What good was denying himself this, when Hríd wanted it as much as he did? Hríd groans when Alfonse's tongue flicks across the curve of his ear.

"Of course you may, my lovely prince of Askr." He leans back on his knees, eyes raking down Alfonse's exposed skin hungrily. Alfonse pushes himself up to meet Hríd's lips once more. His fingers smooth over Hríd's clothes. He unbuttons Hríd's shirt, revealing inch by inch of gorgeous, mouthwatering skin. His fingertips brush over old burn scars, hard and ridged to the touch and he dips his head to mouth at them mindlessly as Hríd shrugs his shirt off, playing with the ends of Alfonse's hair.

"Has anyone told you how handsome you look?"murmurs Hríd throatily. Alfonse laughs, planting a last kiss against Hríd's collarbone. His hands toy with the band of Hríd's trousers.

"No one who mattered as much as you," he whispers back. "Lay back and let me please you." They change positions. Reclining against the pine headboard, Hríd trails his fingertips down Alfonse's spine. Alfonse can't help the shiver that races through him, pressing into the featherlight touch. Hríd lifts his hips and Alfonse tugs Hríd's trousers down. Hríd's cock strains through his small clothes and Alfonse leans down and plants a teasing kiss on the tip.

"I was thinking about this," Alfonse confesses, pulling Hríd free and giving him an experimental stroke. Hríd swears loosely, lips parted for breath as he gazes at Alfonse and strokes his cheek. "I-I want to know how you taste." The words make his cheeks burn with embarrassment, but Alfonse sees no reason not to be honest at this point.

"It's all for you, Alfonse," Hríd manages. Alfonse doesn't think he can come again, but his cock twitches eagerly at Hríd's words. Swallowing thickly, Alfonse wets his lips and lowers his head. He licks the tip experimentally, and Hríd's appreciative groan is hot and heavy in his ears. Encouraged, Alfonse licks down the length in broad swipes of his tongue, gazing up at Hríd's pleasured expression through lowered eyelashes. Hríd's cock is thick and heavy, similar to Alfonse's imagination.

He licks the underside, tries to do what he thinks would feel good. Hríd's moans spur him on as Alfonse takes his time learning Hríd's body. He opens his mouth and swallows the head, eagerly taking in as much as he can. This time, Hríd's moan is loud and unrestrained as Alfonse sucks him, lips stretched wide around his cock and his nose nestled in Hríd's wiry curls. Hríd’s musk is heavy on Alfonse’s nose, a strong scent that has Alfonse wanting more, grounding him to the reality that this is actually happening.

"If only you could see yourself," breathes Hríd. His hand strokes Alfonse's head. His touch is gentle as his fingers thread through Alfonse's hair. "You look so perfect."

Alfonse wants to say the same. Hríd's pupils are blown wide and his gaze is hungry, and Alfonse wants nothing more than for Hríd to devour him whole. Then Hríd's hips buck when Alfonse tongues his length, and Alfonse nearly chokes when the blunt head of Hríd's cock hits the back of his throat.

"S-sorry," gasps Hríd. He lets go of Alfonse's hair, knuckls curling tightly against the sheets instead. Blinking reflex tears from his eyes, Alfonse pulls back slightly, but only to curl his hand around the base of Hríd's cock. Hríd's cheeks are equally flushed now, watching Alfonse with an intensify which makes Alfonse's toes curl. Alfonse whines softly around Hríd's cock in his mouth. He takes Hríd's hand, tugging it until he presses it around the back of his own head, hoping Hríd understands what he wants. He does. Hríd gently presses Alfonse's head down, controlling the pace as Alfonse slips further down his shaft.

"You're so good," groans Hríd, tipping his head back and groaning. His fingers twist into Alfonse's hair, but doesn't pull. His other hand strokes Alfonse's cheeks, teasing the seam of Alfonse's lips where they're parted wide and wanting. "D-don't force yourself, my prince. Take it slow." His touch is gentle, far more so than Alfonse's imagination, and Alfonse moans when Hríd's fingers reach further down, trailing over his spine and over the curve of his ass.

"Do you like that?" murmurs Hríd. "Tell me, Alfonse." Hríd's cock is throbbing under Alfonse's ministrations, and Alfonse moans and rocks against Hríd's thigh when he feels a cautious finger probe against his entrance. He wants it, gods, he wants it so badly, but he's already oversensitized from coming earlier. He angles his head down and Hríd's thighs tremble beneath his splayed hands.

"I'm close," Hríd gasps, and his admission only spurs Alfonse on. He sucks harder and is rewarded with Hríd's hips rocking up into him in short thrusts. He's still trying to restrain himself and Alfonse feels a warm surge of affection for him as Hríd's eyes squeeze shut and his hips stutter. "Alfonse, I'm-" Hríd's warning falters into a long groan. His cock throbs, warm seed pulsing over Alfonse's tongue, bitter and salty.

Alfonse whines in surprise and pulls away. A second spurt hits the corner of his mouth, trickling down his chin. Hríd is gasping still, and Alfonse wants to burn the image of Hríd coming into his eyes forever. Hríd’s face twisted in gorgeous pleasure that Alfonse gave him, eyes closed and mouth panting as he basks in the glow of release is everything Alfonse dreamed of and more. He swallows Hríd’s seed, tongue flicking out to taste the come that’s spilled over his lips. It’s salty and the smell of sex in the room is overpowering, but Alfonse can only think about how much he wishes this could last forever.

“Hríd,” he manages, and he’s shocked at how raw and scratchy his voice sounds. Hríd’s eyes flicker open, pupils blown and hazy. Nifl’s prince chuckles softly. His hand tugs Alfonse in. Hríd leans in and licks the mess on Alfonse’s mouth, and Alfonse moans softly as Hríd’s stubble rasps over his sensitive skin.

“You’re perfect, Alfonse.” breathes Hríd. “So good to me, my lovely prince of Askr.” His broad arms wrap around Alfonse, pulling him under the covers and bracketing him in close. Pressed chest to chest with each other, Hríd draws Alfonse in for a lazy open-mouth kiss, sated and perfect and more than Alfonse ever dared to hope for.

Alfonse melts into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself indulge in Hríd’s warmth. “Hríd,” he murmurs.

“Yes, Alfonse?” Hríd pulls back slightly, bumping noses with him in a gesture that’s both too affectionate and intimate for Alfonse to bear.

“Nothing,” lies Alfonse. He smiles at Hríd quietly. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Hríd’s chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. “Is that so? Then it is good that I like my name on your lips.” He rolls over, pulling Alfonse close to him. “Sleep well, my beautiful Alfonse.”

The three words are on the tip of Alfonse’s tongue, and he wants so badly to say them, to give them life. But they’re not words he can take back easily, even if thoughtlessly said during a night of pleasure and sensation. They burn his throat with the desire to voice them, but even now Alfonse can’t bring himself to admit them. He contents himself with mouthing them into the soft skin of Hríd’s neck. Their breaths eventually slow as exhaustion dawns over them.

Alfonse doubts Hríd will stay come dawn, but he dreams of a morning well spent in Hríd’s loving embrace.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I actually wrote this lmao, but when Hrid kills your writer's block faster than Mia can double you, just go with it.


End file.
